Die Oven, Die (one-shot)
by Ashida
Summary: Asami's biggest enemy rears its head as Asami tries to prepare something for his lovers birthday…. Who would have thought that enemy would be in his very own kitchen?


Die Oven, Die.

What do you get someone for their birthday that doesn't value material things?

Asami had no idea, he was used to sending an assistant out to get something for his business partners and associates.

Asami could get anyone anything, and they would simply be happy he'd acknowledged them enough to even warrant a card.

There was one person though, that was different, one person who'd had Kirishima and Suoh searching Tokyo high and low for the perfect gift.

A perfect gift they couldn't find. Asami knew Akihito wouldn't accept anything of great value, it just wasn't in his nature, which is what made him appreciate Akihito all the more, and which is what motivated Asami to find his lover the perfect gift. Something that would make Akihito understand.

That was how Asami found himself standing in his galley style kitchen, a kitchen any chef would dream of, staring down at the container of flour, sugar, and other ingredients, along side a recipe book that belonged to the person he was cooking for.

That's right, he was going to make Takbaba Akihito a cake for his birthday. He'd seen Akihito whip one up before, watched him potter around the kitchen with flour on his nose, that cute apron tied about his waist as he happily tended his labor of love.

Admittedly, Asami had interrupted Akihito's last baking session, unable to resist the cute butt wiggle Akihito gave as he tasted the cake batter and danced at his satisfaction of the taste.

Asami didn't like sweet things, but that cake batter was good.. all over Akihito's body.

Maybe he could just make the mix and wait for Akihito to get home and they could try that again… Asami's dick twinged with the thought, no, it was Akihito's birthday, not his.

He only had a few hours before he knew Akihito would be home from his photography session, so he set to work, alone.

Kirishima had nervously offered to help, Suoh practically ran in the other direction, wanting to be as far away from Asami and a kitchen as possible.

Asami had declined his loyal assistant, if he was going to give Akihito something home made, then it should only be him that had a part in making it.

The gift was from Asami, and no one else.

Asami looked at the apron draped on the kitchen door handle, he wasn't clumsy like Akihito was in the kitchen, so he wouldn't need it.

He examined the recipe for the chocolate cake he was making, analyzing the instructions and eliminating unnecessary procedures that would only hinder his efforts to get it done by the deadline.

If he turned the oven temperature up higher, surely it would cook faster.

A sieve, no need to sieve the flour, the correct measurement went straight into the cake mixer, he wasn't going to waste time sifting flour. He had a cake to make.

'Mix dry ingredients in mixer.' Ok, Asami pushed the high-speed button on top….

Only to have the flour and cocoa fly out in a giant puff of air throughout the kitchen, and all over the front of his waistcoat and down his dress pants.

The corner of his eye gave an irritated twitch, ok, maybe he needed the apron after all. Too late for that now.

Next set of instructions: 'Add wet ingredients while mixing gently.'

Gently, a cake didn't need to be treated gently, it was a goddam cake and he would mix the shit out of that cake.

He dumped the milk and oil in unceremoniously, before finally cracking the eggs in with his large calloused hands, hissing as he saw bits of shell fall in to disappear into the sticky mess, never to be found no matter how much he fished around. Sigh. Now his hands were covered in egg and flour, disgusting.

His eye gave another twitch, bigger than the last.

He turned on the mixer, slowly this time, before turning it up full speed for a few minutes while he got the baking pan ready, only to have the mixer start making odd noises and begin slowing down before he pushed any more buttons.

Curious, Asami turned it off anyway to look at his mixture, only to find a lumpy, concrete like mess in the bowl that didn't look anything like the way Akihito made his.

Another sigh, another twitch.

Perhaps hand mixing it to get rid of the lumps was the best option. Accepting the notion, he took a spatula hanging off the utensils rack and cradled the bowl against his body with his forearm.

Try as he might to mix it, the cake mixture fought him every step of the way, the thick brown mix refusing to follow his wishes and do what a damn cake mix should.

He should have asked Kirishima to stay, this was a two man job.

A heavy sigh, another twitch.

After a ridiculous amount of time trying to get the lumps out that burst into small pockets of flour, he coerced the mix into a semblance of what looked like the cake batter Akihito made.

How Akihito enjoyed the activity of baking was beyond him.

It's a pity he couldn't throw some money at the cake mix to get it to behave, it came out of the bowl at it's own horrendously slow pace, fighting gravity with its thick viscosity.

A growl this time, coupled with brows pursed in frustration.

Finally, his negotiations with the batter came out in his favor, and he smoothed the slightly less lumpy mix in its pan and set it in the oven to bake.

He took the time the cake was baking to pour himself a much needed drink and get into a new suit, glaring at the apron on the wall as it mocked him with it's bright colors on the way back into the kitchen.

The cake recipe called for 50 minutes in the oven, but since he'd turned the temperature up, he surmised it needed a significant amount less, and the burning smell as he stalked up to the oven confirmed his theory.

Another growl. That wasn't the smell he smelt whenever Akihito made anything in the kitchen.

Not forgetting to use an oven mitt, he scowled as he took the blackened lumpy disguise of a cake out from the oven. It was burnt.

He looked at the cake, and back at the oven, trying to decide which one was at fault.

It was the oven, that thing had it out for him since day one, and it seemed the entire kitchen was in on it, the cake mixer, the spatula, the apron, didn't any appliance in this kitchen know who he was?

Didn't they know to follow orders?

That fucking oven, it ruined all his efforts in creating the perfect gift for Akihito, that was something he wouldn't tolerate, anything that interfered in his efforts with Akihito must be put down.

With a snarl, burnt cake in one hand, he reached for his 9mm Beretta and emptied the magazine into the glass of the oven door, the rounds exploding from the chamber in thunderous claps in the small kitchen, going right through the glass and ricocheting around inside the abused appliance.

_Die Oven, Die._

Asami smirked at his fallen foe with satisfaction, that would be the last time it made a fool of him. Burnt cake or not.

That's right, burnt cake, Akihito. Dammit. There was no way he could let Akihito near this monstrosity, he had to come up with an alternative solution, and fast.

.

* * *

><p>Somewhere in Ginza, Kirishima and Suoh walked out of a boutique bakery, which specialized in home made cakes.<p>

Suoh opened the door for Kirishima, who was holding an extremely valuable package, more important than any deed or smuggling route.

As he sat down, he nestled the small white box in his lap with the utmost care, careful not to disturb his charge as he answered his phone, on speaker for Suoh to hear.

"Boss?" he asked.

"_Cake Kirishima, get me a cake." _Came the irritated tone.

Suoh put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"Any particular kind of cake, Asami sama?" Kirishima questioned in a blank tone, looking down at the chocolate cake in his lap.

"_Chocolate, Akihito likes chocolate." _

Kirishima held his hand out next to him for Suoh to pay out, Suoh bet Akihito wanted a vanilla cake, but Kirishima had been adamant on chocolate.

With a sigh, the blonde bodyguard slapped the wad of cash into a triumphant Kirishima's hand.

"I'm right on it, Asami sama." He replied as the limo pulled away from the curb.

"_You have half an hour, and Kirishima?" _

"Yes boss?" Kirishima stiffened at the threatening tone.

"_If Akihito finds out, you're dead. As far as he knows, I made that damn cake. Got it?" _

"Yes, of course Asami sama!" Kirishima shot right back, would the boss really kill him over a cake? He didn't want to find out.

"_Good, hurry up." _

The phone clicked off, and beside him, the normally stoic Suoh burst into laughter at the steering wheel, Kirishima's mouth hanging open before he finally joined Suoh in his amusement.

.

* * *

><p>Asami lay in bed the next morning, quite chuffed with himself.<p>

As far as Akihito was concerned, Asami was an amazing baker, as well as a perverted crime lord bastard, but those accusations got less and less the more cake Asami fed the young man, who was more than happy with his present, though he threw Asami off his game when the blonde said 'even if the cake was shit, it was the thought that counts.'

Asami burst into laughter at that comment, he should have known Akihito would say something like that but oh if only Akihito knew how shit the real cake would have been, that was something the photographer could never find out. He'd sworn Kirishima and Suoh to their graves on it when they delivered the important package moments before Akihito walked in. Kirishima and Suoh got rid of evidence and cleaned up while Asami distracted his lover in the lounge with birthday kisses, which Akihito said he didn't want.

In the end, they both got a birthday treat last night, and once again, Asami didn't mind the taste of cake with Akihito as the serve ware.

Yes, Asami was chuffed alright, it went off without a hitch, and he sighed contentedly in bed as he listened to the noises of Akihito making them breakfast, but they suddenly stopped.

"Asami!?" came the yelled question down the hall. Asami stiffened, was there something he'd forgotten? Did the apron rat on him?

He gave no answer, waiting for Akihito to come down the hall and stand in the doorway with a confused look on his face.

"Why are there bullet holes in the oven?" the blonde questioned suspiciously.

Dammit, in the end, it was still that fucking oven that came out on top.


End file.
